


Bring Him Home

by SoWrongItsLottie



Series: It's All About... Sterek! [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, Implied Stiles / Jackson, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Nogitsune, Panic Attacks, Post-Void!Stiles, Runaway Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoWrongItsLottie/pseuds/SoWrongItsLottie
Summary: After defeating the Nogitsune, the Hale-McCall pack are trying to get their lives back to normal. When the memories and nightmares become too much to bear, Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands. If the pack can’t move on with him there with them, then why not just eliminate his presence from the town that has suffered so much at his hands; ancient fox possession or not, it was Stiles’ fault, and they all knew it.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ethan/Danny Mahealani
Series: It's All About... Sterek! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719100
Comments: 22
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I'm back with a brand new fic!
> 
> Since being stuck at home due to this quarantine, I have found a new-found love of writing so decided to dive into an old folder of incomplete works that I had stored away. This fic is actually going to be part of quite a large collection - roughly eighty in total - but worry not, they'll all be divided into their own stories so they don't get lost. I've been working on the overall collection for about two years now and yes, while the majority of them are incomplete, there is a plan to write them all. So, I hope you'll sit back and relax, and join me on this very Sterek-centered journey!
> 
> Stay safe. Stay happy. Stay healthy. - _SoWrongItsLottie_

Guilt.

Complete mind-numbing guilt.

There was no other way to describe it.

The sheer volume of emotions currently going through Stiles’ head is overpowered by this one feeling. It’s making him nauseous, and his stomach is twisting and churning into a tight little knot as he sits numbly in the dimly lit hospital room, waiting for his Dad to come and collect him.

As the seconds tick slowly by on the plain clock above the bed, Stiles allows his mind to relay a couple of moments from earlier in the evening.

If he scrunches his eyes shut as tight as they can go, he can still faintly hear Chris Argent calling for the ambulance as well as a Coroner the very moment he appeared on the scene. He can remember hearing Lydia screaming out for both Allison and Aiden as they died… it’s not a sound he’s likely to forget anytime soon. He can remember the way Scott had reassured him in that calm voice when he had asked if everyone was okay, but most of all, he remembers the way in which Derek had looked at him as he stumbled out of the school, his weight being supported by Lydia.

It’s a look that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

The rest of the time however, from when the ambulance had left the school grounds to arriving at the hospital, was very much a blur of loud voices belonging to police officers, doctors and nurses. The flashing fluorescent lights were soon replaced by a couple of dim lights and a solitary voice that was speaking to him in a soothing tone. All the while his fingers remained clenched tight around the thin sheet beneath him. In all honesty, it was probably more of a coincidence than chance that Melissa McCall had been on duty when the call came through about the attack. Stiles knew she would have been panicking as soon as she heard the words fall from the operator’s mouth, knowing too well that her son would’ve been involved.

Through the blurriness of his vision, Stiles could see Melissa’s panic and fear wither as she laid eyes on her boy as he kept up with the quick strides of the medics as they pushed the gurney that was holding Stiles’ exhausted and barely conscious form down the seemingly never-ending corridors of the emergency ward. As they approached the receptionist’s desk, he could see Melissa rushing forward and taking him into her arms as she holds back tears of relief, asking him repeatedly if he was okay and insisting that he tells her what happened. When Scott doesn’t respond, Melissa straightens up, professionalism radiating from her once more as she tells him to take a seat in the waiting area before heading into the private examination room in which Stiles has been placed and starts checking him over for any underlying injuries.

Stiles has always liked Melissa.

He found her to be the missing Mother-figure he so desperately wanted back in his life.

But as she was asking him question after question, prodding and poking him everything, all the while shining a light into his burning eyes, he just wanted to be left alone in the dark and silence of the room. However, as much as he wanted that, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to go away and stop bothering him; it would hurt her feelings too much. So instead, he lets out a ragged breath and forced his sluggish mind to relay the answers to her questions, making sure to insist that he was okay and that he was just tired and needed some time to rest. Stiles didn’t miss the moment of hesitation she got lost in before giving him a nod, reluctantly giving him the all clear to get some rest and informing him that she was going to call his Dad to let him know that he was safe and for him to come down to collect him as soon as he could get away from the Station.

When she finally leaves the room, Stiles can’t help but let out a groan.

He had just lied to Melissa, but honestly, how could he be fine?

Twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed since his body, mind and spirit played host to an ancient fox demon who had used him to create chaos within Beacon Hills and not only that, if it wasn’t the feeling of guilt that was crashing into him like a ton of bricks, it was the crippling exhaustion.

 _It’s not as though I wasn’t expecting to feel like this_ , Stiles thinks to himself.

Scott’s veterinarian boss, Dr Alan Deaton and his Guidance Councellor sister, Marin Morrell, had both warned Stiles about the effects that the Nogitsune would force upon his body and those in his presence if Stiles didn’t fight to take control. The Nogitsune was a spirit that got its kicks by creating pain and strife wherever it went. It was actually the two of them who told him about the demon and how to counteract its agenda, giving him subtle hints to keep going when it seemed as though he was ready to just let the creature takeover.

Whenever he thought about it, Stiles couldn’t help but let out a pained cry at the fact it was mere irony that he had been chosen over Scott and the others to play host to the mischievous fox. If anything, his real name would have been a big giveaway, if only he had known to pick up on it…

 _If you had, then Allison and Aiden might still be alive_.

Stiles’ stomach twists painfully at the voice in his head as he clenches his eyes firmly shut.

He’s tempted to take Melissa up on her offer of administrating him a sedative in order to allow his body and mind to rest for a few hours, it might also silence the voice, but he doesn’t dare. As much as he would like to sleep and just here silence, he’s terrified of what he will see as soon as he slips into dreamworld. For however many weeks now, his dreams had been fuelled with nothing but horror. If he was to have drugs in his system, then who knows just how many of those horror’s he would have to live through. He couldn’t take the chance, so instead of calling out for Melissa, he remains still, sitting on the uncomfortable hospital bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, waiting for his Dad to come and take him home.

Stiles feels as though he’s been left waiting for hours, though it can’t have been more than a few minutes.

Truth be told, his once sharp mind was being distracted by the incessant ticking of the clock, his body subconsciously swaying in time with every _tick tock_. As irritating the sound was, it still wasn’t enough to stop his head from snapping up and looking towards the recently closed door as the shouts of his Dad echo down the hall, his cries frantic and desperate as he tries to locate his son.

As another ragged breath breaks through his chapped lips, Stiles shuffles off the bed

When his feet hit the ground, he takes a moment to steady himself before moving slowly towards the door.

The difference between the dim lighting of the private room and the bright lighting of the hallway, hit Stiles sharply like a bolt of lightning. He had to narrow his eyes until they were almost closed in order to stop them from feeling as though they were being pricked by a thousand different needles, and it took all of his strength not to recoil back into the room. He really needed to sleep, if only to stop his eyes from hurting.

Taking in another breath, Stiles lifts his hand up to his eyes and steps out into the hallway, waiting a few seconds before lowering his hand. He looks to the right and he sees Melissa at the reception desk, and upon Stiles leaving the small room, Melissa looks up.

“STILES?!” Noah calls out as he races down the corridor.

Stiles barely has time to register his name being called before he’s pulled into a tight embrace.

“Dad… I’m okay.” Stiles mumbles tiredly into his Dad’s shoulder as he returns the hug.

“Yeah, like hell you are.” Noah breathes out as he reluctantly pulls back from the hold, his hand resting on his son’s cheek as he looks him over, taking a mental note of how pale his son looks under the fluorescent lights of the corridor and how his shoulders slump in exhaustion as he returns he looks up into his Father’s eyes. It’s moments like these that Stiles really appreciates still having his Dad around.

After his Mom had passed away, his Dad had started to lose himself, more so in a bottle of Whiskey than anything else, but still... it was not a sight that Stiles wishes to see again anytime soon. Being tormented with the illusion of his Dad drunk and shouting to all that would listen that he blamed Stiles for the death of his wife, Stiles’ Mom, was like a stab in the gut and it was all thanks to spiked punch at Lydia’s birthday party. That moment right there was bad enough, he didn’t need to see the real thing playing out in front of him, especially not after tonight.

He needed his Dad, and he needed him sober, now more than ever.

Seeing him standing before him tonight, was just what he needed.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Noah asks as he looks into Stiles’ weary, bloodshot eyes.

Stiles tries to nod, but something in the back of his mind wouldn’t allow him to leave without at least checking on the others. As his feet start taking him in the direction of the waiting room, the voice in his head starts up its tirade of toxic accusations, making it clear to Stiles that this was all his fault from the start, and before he even reaches the reception desk, his chest is tight and heaving with his vision starting to cloud over.

“Whoa, Stiles, take a deep breath,” Melissa instructs, quickly coming round the desk and putting a hand on his back. “I know what you want to do but maybe you should give it a couple of days, get some rest, get your health back. Scott’s not going anywhere, you can talk to him later.”

Stiles knows that she’s right, of course she is, but he had to apologize to his best friend.

He would never be able to live with himself if his best friend couldn’t forgive him.

He was about to open his mouth to protest when his Dad spoke up.

“Melissa’s right, son. Too much has happened tonight, it would be best to let the dust settle, let everyone get to grips with what’s happened and then you can all get together and talk things through. You’re my number one priority and I’m not going to let you push your limits, okay?”

Reluctantly, Stiles nods and his Dad pats him on the shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Noah says softly, starting to guide his son out.

“Sheriff, one second.” Melissa calls out, going back behind the desk.

“Wait here.” Noah instructs, waiting until Stiles nods once more before moving back to the desk.

Less than a minute later, they were both walking out through the hospital doors and out into the parking lot and over to his Dad’s parked car.

“Are you hungry?” Noah asks as he opens the passenger door of his Cruiser for Stiles. “What do you say we stop by the drive-thru on the way home and pick up a couple of burgers, shakes and some curly fries?”

“You’re know you’re not supposed to…” Stiles starts but trails off as he looks at his Dad.

Apart from the bags under the Sheriff’s eyes from pulling one too many doubles, Stiles can’t ignore the feeling of guilt as it creeps back into the pit of his stomach, reminding him of all the worry and stress that he’s caused for his Dad over the past few weeks. Deep down he knows that it wasn’t solely his fault, he wasn’t exactly asking for all of the shit to happen, but he still couldn’t shift the feeling.

“You know what, that actually sounds great.” He tries to smile as he slowly moves towards the car. “Thanks.”

Noah smiles at his boy, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he closed the door after him.

Despite everything that had happened tonight, and the feeling of guilt that was still sitting in the back of his mind like a lingering Chistery monkey from an amateur production of Wicked, Stiles couldn’t help but allow his muscles to relax. The familiar surroundings of the Cruiser helped as well as having his Dad by his side. Stiles knows that he’s more than likely going to be feeling both guilty and crappy for the next few days but with the support he has at the moment, he knows that he’s going to get through it, if only by taking things one day at a time.

Before he knew it, Stiles was drifting off into a light slumber before his Dad had even put his seatbelt on.

 _Dreamworld, here he comes_ …


	2. Chapter 2

For the duration of the ride to the Diner and from the Diner back home, Stiles had allowed his body to just shut off. He couldn’t deny that he needed to sleep, his was practically already close to tears with how exhausted he was but he knew that the nightmares he would no doubt face would be lurking right around the corner. He was glad that they hadn’t crept up on him in the small confines of his Dad’s car. He guessed that there was such a thing as small victories after all. However, as soon as the Cruiser was parked up and he was being shaken awake by his Dad, everything that happened earlier that evening came crashing right back to him. His chest tightened at the memory of the blood, the screams from Lydia, Scott and Ethan, the sound of the continuous fighting, the flashing of swords in the moonlight, the whistling of flying arrows, and then… silence.

Stiles fumbled for the door handle, trying to open it to allow some air to come in but as he sucked in a breath, he ended up choking. His Dad, who had managed to open his own door and was just about to get out of the driver’s seat, turned back round to face Stiles, his eyes wide.

“Hey, hey, Stiles… breathe,” his Dad instructs, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, the other cupping his cheeks. “Look at me.”

Stiles tried; he really did but he just couldn’t.

People were _dead_ because of him.

As much as Stiles wanted to believe everyone who told him that it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the people who had been killed because of him. He let a Demon enter not only his mind, but his body as well. He had blood on his hands, whether it was intentional or not. People had lost members of their family all because Stiles wasn’t strong enough to keep the Nogitsune out. He did all of this.

His best friend was one of those people who had lost the love of their life.

How was he ever going to be able to face Scott now?

“Stiles, I need you to breathe,” his Dad pleaded, gripping onto his shoulder a little tighter. “Do you hear me? Breathe.”

It takes a few minutes, but Stiles eventually is able to take a breath without choking, his heart rate was coming back down and his body slumped back in the seat, exhaustion flooding through every single fibre of his being. His Dad let up the grip on his shoulder but he didn’t remove his hand right away, he was looking at Stiles with concern as Stiles closed his eyes and leant his head against the back of the seat.

“Let’s get you inside okay?” His Dad asked, giving him a little shake.

Stiles opened his eyes a little as he nodded and reached up to give his Dad’s hand a little pat as if to say thank you.

When they were both inside the house and had made their way into the small dining area, Sheriff Stilinski placed the bags of food down on the table and turned to look at his son who was trying to look anywhere but at him. As he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it off the back of one of the chairs, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a step forward, deciding to try a different tactic.

“Stiles, we don’t need to talk about what happened tonight, at least not right now, but I need you to talk to me.”

Stiles didn’t say anything in response.

In all honesty, he didn’t know what he could say that would help him feel better.

The Sheriff waited for a minute before he pushed a bag of curly fries towards Stiles. He knew that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Stiles tonight, just like he knew that it would take some time for Stiles to open up and talk through his feelings.

“Okay, if you’re not in the mood to talk right now, that’s fine, but you should at least eat something before getting some sleep.”

Stiles looked up at his Dad, and to the bag of curly fries before shaking his head; his stomach was twisting uncomfortably and he didn’t know how it would react to having something heavier than a sip of water inside it when he was feeling this way. He opened his mouth to protest but his Dad raised a hand, pointing towards the chair in front of Stiles and gave him a look that said ‘ _you will sit down and eat something_ ’.

Stiles knew better than to argue so he moved sluggishly to the chair, pulled it out and slumped down into it.

His Dad watches him for a brief second before nodding in approval and takes a seat opposite him at the table. He grabs hold of on of the bags and opens it up, withdrawing a holder of curly fries and tipping them into the burger box before pushing it gently over to Stiles, who was looking greener by the second as he tried to avoid looking at the food he normally would have devoured within seconds.

“Stiles, please, you need to eat something.” Noah presses, watching his son closely.

Stiles remained still, the only sound coming from him was the sound of his ragged breath.

After a minute of neither Noah or Stiles saying anything, Stiles reached out a hesitant hand and picked up a single curly fry from the burger box. He looked at it for a second before bringing it up to his mouth and taking a bite. What he usually found to be heaven wrapped in fried potato goodness, now tasted like ash in his mouth. He had to resist the urge to spit it out as he chewed. It was even harder for him to swallow it without gagging, but with his Dad watching him, Stiles managed to swallow and keep it down.

His Dad smiled and reached for his own food.

They both ate in a somewhat comfortable silence before Stiles decided that he was done.

Closing the lid of the box, burger left untouched alongside a handful of fries, he pushed it away and slumped back in his seat, waiting for his Dad to finish eating before daring to leave the table. It was something that his Mother had always taught him; _if people are still eating, Stiles, it’s rude to just get up and leave_. His stomach twisted at the memory of her words and he quickly wrapped his arms around himself.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Noah says after he finishes his own burger.

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up from the table wood top.

“It was just a couple of fries, Dad…”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Stiles looks back down again, shaking his head.

“Stiles, I’m so damn proud of you because of how much of a fighter you are.” Noah starts to say but as Stiles shakes his head some more and opens his mouth to scoff or protest, he continues. “No, I’m being serious. I could have lost you tonight, do you realize that? That could have been you that was being brought to the hospital morgue and when I got that call to say that a kid had been killed at the school, I panicked because I knew that you would have been there with Scott and the others. Hearing those words… it scared the hell out of me, but the way that you’re handling everything, the way that you fought through the possession… Stiles, I’ve never been prouder of you.”

Stiles kept his head bowed low; he didn’t want to look his Dad in the eyes.

No… it’s not that he didn’t want to, he physically _couldn’t_.

How could hid Dad be proud of him?

He was nothing more than a murderer.

“You shouldn’t be,” Stiles murmurs under his breath.

Shaking his head, Stiles pushes his chair back away from the table.

“Stiles…” Noah says, reaching over the table for Stiles but he just takes a step back.

“I’m tired,” Stiles sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s been… a long day.”

“Yeah.” Noah agrees with a nod of his head.

Noah was reluctant to let Stiles just walk away from him, but he knew that Stiles was right; it had been a long day, for both of them. The pure fear that he had felt when he received that call, he wasn’t lying to Stiles, it was the most fear he had ever felt. Seeing Stiles standing there in front of him was a relief and he couldn’t imagine how he would have coped after losing his wife and his son.

“Wait here while I clean up, then we’ll go up.” Noah instructs, picking up the boxes and taking them into the kitchen.

Stiles wasn’t going to argue, he knew why his Dad didn’t want him to go upstairs on his own, he wasn’t stupid. To his Dad, if he lost sight of Stiles for even a second, then he would start worrying about where he was. At least if he walks with Stiles to his room and watches him go inside, then he knows that he’s safe and exactly where he needs him to be.

Safe and at home.

It didn’t take long at all for Noah to dispose of the take-out, and after a quick sweep of the doors and windows, making sure that they were all locked and secured, he puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder to let him know that he’s done and together, they head out and up the stairs. Stiles didn’t speak a word as they went, Noah wasn’t really expecting him to, but he had half hoped that he would have at least said something to reassure him that he was okay, even one of his sarcastic remarks would have been something.

But no, Stiles was completely silent.

As they reach Stiles’ bedroom, Stiles open the door and Noah hesitates as he turns to face his son.

“I know it’s not going to be easy, but try to get some sleep, okay?” He says in a gentle voice.

“You to. Night, Dad.” Stiles says softly with a nod before closing his bedroom door.

Deciding against turning on the light, Stiles fumbles his way towards his bed, kicking off his shoes in the process and was just about to collapse face first onto the awaiting mattress when the desk light flicked on, revealing an exhausted looking Derek, sitting in Stiles’ computer chair, still wearing the same clothes for earlier that evening, blood encrusted on his shirt included.

“Holy-!” Stiles gasps, stepping back in shock and letting out a small groan when the bottom of his back hits the doorknob. “Shit!”

His Dad must have been hovering outside of his door because within seconds, the handle was turning and he entered without knocking.

“Stiles?” Noah calls out, stopping short at the sight before him. “Derek, how did you…?”

The Sheriff’s eyes trailed towards the open window before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, Sheriff, I just wanted to make sure that Stiles was okay.” Derek announced, raising his hands in defence as he stood up from the computer chair and took a hesitant step forward. He noticed the way that the Sheriff’s eyes were trailing over his body and he was quick to add; “I didn’t have the chance to change before coming over, I was comforting Ethan and sorting things out with Chris when Melissa text to say that you were headed home and I couldn’t wait until morning to see Stiles.”

Stiles shifted a little on the balls of his feet, his arms still crossed protectively over his chest.

Derek had come to make sure that he was alright… his chest tightened a little at this.

Stiles wasn’t one hundred percent certain what the look Derek had given him at the school when he came out with Lydia, had meant. On one hand, he thought that it was one which expressed disappointment at the fact that Derek couldn’t believe Stiles had caused all of this in the first place but on the other hand, he thought that he saw a little bit of disgust towards him for causing not one, but two of his friends to actually lose their lives.

Having him standing in front of him, in the middle of his bedroom, saying that he wanted to check up on him… Stiles didn’t know what to make of the previous look. Did he just imagine it? Luckily, he didn’t have time to ponder any further on the matter as his Dad speaks up.

“Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up; I’ll leave you out some fresh clothes to change into. You might as well stay the night.”

Stiles looks at his Dad at the suggestion of Derek spending the night and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose…” Derek starts to protest but he stops short as the Sheriff raises a hand.

“It’s fine, honestly, I insist.” Noah says, looking between Stiles and Derek. “I think it might help.”

Stiles doesn’t miss the look his Dad sends in his direction, and he can’t help but repress a sigh. He knows that his Dad is worried about him, he’s always worried about him but at the same time it’s not as if Stiles has ever given him a reason not to be worried. In the past two years, Stiles has gotten involved with a lot of dangerous situations, and admittedly, his Dad has come close to losing him a couple of times but tonight… well, tonight has been the closest call that Stiles has ever had, and he’s not proud to admit that either.

Stiles looks towards Derek and gives him a nod, letting him know that it’s okay.

Derek gives him a small smile and reaches out to give his shoulder a slight squeeze as he passes.

“Thank you,” Derek says to Noah, offering him a handshake.

* * * * * *

True to his word, Noah had left Derek a clean pair of dark lounge pants and a plain white t-shirt out on the countertop in the bathroom.

Derek wanted to take his time in the shower, make sure that every single drop of blood had been washed away from his skin, but he was impatient to get back out to the boy who he had come to care about more than anything else in the world.

Much like Noah, Derek had been terrified that he would lose Stiles, but once he saw him stumble out of the school doors and being supported by Lydia, he had let himself relax for just the briefest of seconds before moving forward to see if he could help Aiden. It was already too late; he had already passed away in his brother’s arms. He owed it to Ethan to offer him some support, a shoulder to cry on, which is why he was late.

As the water starts to run cold, Derek shakes his head and shuts off the water.

Within minutes he has dried off, changed into the clothes Noah had left out and was making his way down the stairs. If he was going to keep watch over Stiles tonight, to make sure that he really was okay, then Derek was going to need a lot of coffee in him.

He was just putting a fresh filter into the coffee machine when Noah entered the kitchen, his shoulder slumped in exhaustion.

“He’s finally getting some sleep,” Noah announces, his voice tired.

Derek takes a moment to really take a look at the Sheriff.

Since he has known the man, Derek could see one or two major differences.

The first was his overall appearance. Back when Derek was a kid, the Sheriff had a much healthier glow to his skin and his eyes were far brighter than what they tonight. Derek knew from Stiles that the stresses of the job were finally starting to catch up to him, Derek wasn’t sure if he truly believed that but looking at him tonight, perhaps Stiles was right to be worried about him. Derek’s no doctor but he would bet that if Stiles had been the one to have lost his life tonight, then the Sheriff would have been one step closer to losing his own; whether it would be by excessive alcohol consumption or simply from a broken heart, he isn’t sure but he could sense the relief that was radiating from his weary form.

The second difference he noticed was the way that he regarded Derek being here, in his home. In all the time he had known the Sheriff, Derek had only been on bad terms with him once, and that was shortly after the Hale Fire. Derek didn’t want to admit it at the time but he was struggling to cope after losing his family and he had found himself falling into the wrong crowd at school. One prank ended up turning into a criminal charge but when he was brought in front of a judge, the Sheriff had been the one to convince them that he was just a lost kid who needed some guidance and support. It was why he originally left Beacon Hills, he needed to find himself and he couldn’t do that with so many bad memories. He knew that the Sheriff was disappointed in him and he knew that he was causing him so much work but after the court date, Derek vowed to not get in his bad books again… that is, until he actually got to know Stiles and then his vows were thrown straight out the window.

In a way, he was kind of like Stiles. He was a little on the nerdy side, but whatever he lacked in academia, he certainly made up for on the Lacrosse field. He thought that the aggressive nature of the game would help him to make friends, but everyone seemed to have already made up their mind about him. Which is similar to how Stiles is; he’s a lot smarter than the average student and his choice of friends is a little questionable. Now, he’s not saying that Scott is a bad friend for Stiles, on the contrary, Scott’s a good kid, but he’s not exactly the best friend that Stiles needs. Which is why Derek had taken it upon himself to keep an eye out for the boy. He’s not going to lie, it’s not the easiest of tasks and more often than not, he can’t stop Stiles from getting hurt but judging from the way the Sheriff was looking at him now, he knew that he was grateful for the help.

“That’s good to hear, it’s been a tough night for him,” Derek agrees before motioning towards the bubbling pot. “Coffee?”

“Oh yes,” Noah sighs, making his way back towards the kitchen table.

There’s a small silence between them before Derek turned to face him, leaning back against the countertop.

“Thank you again for letting me stay, Sheriff.” Derek says, his voice sincere.

“Honestly, I should be thanking you for wanting to stay and please, Derek, I think you know me well enough to call me Noah, don’t you think?”

Derek gives him a small smile as the coffee machine signals that the hot liquid was ready. He takes in a steady breath as he turns round, his back now facing the Sheriff as he sets about getting out two mugs, the milk and a teaspoon. Making coffee was a task that required minimal thinking but for Derek, that’s not necessarily a good thing as it allowed some of his more pressing thoughts to make themselves known, one of which is one that he’s currently sharing with the Sheriff, which is confirmed by his next words.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Derek, I’m worried about him,” Noah sighs, a hand running through his hair.

Derek frowns slightly as he sets the teaspoon down and turns to hand Noah a mug.

“I am too,” he admits, his voice soft.

“I didn’t think it was possible for one person to worry so much about another but, these past few weeks have terrified me. I’m still new to all of this supernatural stuff, I’m still not even sure if I believe half of it and to have Stiles right there in the middle of it… Derek, I’m scared that I’m going to lose my boy and I’m scared that I’m going to lose him in a situation that he doesn’t need to be in.” Noah explains, raising the mug to his lips.

“Noah, it was never my intention to get Stiles involved in any of this. I didn’t…” Derek starts to say but he’s interrupted by the sound of a scream.

Without wasting a single second, Derek pushes his chair away from the kitchen table and bolts towards the stairs, he doesn’t stop to check to see if the Sheriff was following hot on his heels as he rushes up to Stiles’ room. As he skids to a halt, he fumbles with the handle and throws himself into the room, his eyes scanning round the room for any sign of a potential threat but there was no one in there apart from Stiles.

Stiles, who was currently screaming in pure fear at the nightmare he had just experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much to everyone who has read and liked the first chapter, the support you show really means a lot to me and I hope you liked this chapter as well! I was initially planning on making the updates for this weekly but I think I'm going to have to work on a few more chapters before I can make that happen.
> 
> I hope that you are all keeping safe during this troubling time and I hope that these updates are helping to take your mind off of things. If it's not too much trouble, leave me a comment below to let me know what you think of the updates or even if you just fancy a little chat, all of them are appreciated.
> 
> In these times right now it's important to remember: Stay Happy & Healthy. - _SoWrongItsLottie_


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles doesn’t remember waking up in the middle of the night, screaming in distress, but that’s not to say it didn’t happen.

Whenever Stiles found himself going through a difficult time, it wasn’t unusual for him to wake up screaming, and for his Dad to come running into his room in an attempt to calm him down enough so that he could go back to sleep. So, he wasn’t necessarily surprised when he woke the morning after the Nogitsune / School incident to find a pair of arms wrapped protectively around his waist.

What _did_ surprise him though was finding out that they belonged to Derek, not his Dad.

He remembered finding Derek in his room when he eventually went up to bed and he vaguely remembered his Dad offering Derek a chance to get cleaned up and to spend the night but Stiles never thought in a million years that Derek would actually take his Dad up on his offer, and he never thought that he would climb into Stiles’ bed in order to comfort and help him through whatever nightmare he was dealing with.

Lifting his head ever so slightly, Stiles looks at the man with a new found admiration.

There was no denying that the older man was exhausted, he looked as drained in his sleep as Stiles felt when he was awake but Stiles knew that he would never admit that out loud to him. Derek isn’t one to complain or express how he’s feeling, unless someone really pushes him for an answer which is a very rare occurrence. As soon as they open their mouth to speak, Derek gives them _the look_ and they soon back down.

But, seeing Derek asleep in his bed after comforting him through a nightmare, it sends a warm feeling rushing through his veins.

Careful, as to not disturb him, Stiles unwraps himself from Derek’s embrace and slides smoothly out of bed.

In his exhaustion and in the numbness of the events from the night before, Stiles didn’t even have the energy to take a shower before he went to bed. He can’t help but grimace at the idea of what Derek thought of that when he climbed into bed with him; surely, he would have been able to smell all the grime from the school as well as the scent of the sterile hospital on his skin. It was enough to make Stiles’ skin crawl. He needed to get clean, he couldn’t have those scents attached to him for a minute longer.

After grabbing hold of the first set of clothes he could find, while simultaneously trying not to make a noise, Stiles heads for the bathroom.

Once inside, he doesn’t dwell too long in front of the mirror; he already knows that he looks like Hell.

The past few weeks have seen his once healthy-looking skin turn in an almost translucent shade of white, and his usually bright eyes have turned dim and sunken with bags underneath them that could rival the markings of a panda. His slim figure has become even skinnier than he thought would be possible for his size with his ribs clearly showing against the skin that was stretched across his chest.

Stiles subconsciously places a hand across his stomach as he closes his eyes.

His mind thinks back to the hundreds of fireflies that had erupted out of him when the Nogitsune had sliced his stomach open, he thinks of the laughter that had soon followed the sound of the knife clanging to the floor, the look on his friends faces when they found him unconscious in the parking lot the next morning, and the way that they had looked at him as though he was crazy when he eventually came around in Scott’s home. He can clearly remember the pain of the knife as it moved from one side to the other. It made Stiles’ stomach turn and he starts to feel the bile as it rises in his throat. He starts to sway and has to place a hand on the sink’s edge in order to steady himself.

The reality of the situation is starting to catch up to him; _he let a Demon possess his body and mind_.

After all that he had gone through trying to help Scott deal with his transformations, Stiles never thought that he would ever need someone to help vanquish a Demon from inside of him… he couldn’t even think of a reason _why_ one would want to possess him, he wasn’t exactly one of the popular kids, sure he played Lacrosse but he wasn’t one of the star players, he wasn’t dating the most popular girl in school – despite his many attempts growing up – and his ADD and smart mouth often caused other kids to keep their distance. He couldn’t think of a single good reason as to why the Nogitsune had chosen him because in his mind, Stiles was just… _Stiles_.

Weird.

Innocent.

A Dork.

Whatever the Nogitsune saw in him that made it decide that he was the perfect host, Stiles wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to know. It made him sick to think that any kind of supernatural being had taken his body and mind for a ride, and his stomach clenched at the reminder of all the things the Nogitsune forced him to do while it was in control… all those people that had been murdered… sacrificed.

Quickly turning to the side, Stiles collapses to his knees and heaves into the waiting toilet bowl, the only content to make an appearance was last night’s dinner, and Stiles’ stomach clenched tight as he shut his eyes against the sight. He could feel the tremors in his hands as he heaved, his throat feeling raw as sweat starts beading on his forehead. While he stays there, kneeling down on the hard floor, he could feel all the aches and pain from last night entering into his mind, he could feel each and every one of his muscles protesting against his movements.

As he finished heaving the last remains of his dinner, Stiles collapses back against the bathtub with a choked sob.

A soft knock makes Stiles jump and he scrambles to his feet, his hand gripping the sink’s counter for support.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice calls from the other side, wary and unsure. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Stiles stutters, sucking in a breath before adding, “I’m just taking a shower.”

There’s silence on the other side for a moment.

Stiles listened closely and thought that Derek had retreated back to his bedroom, but then he heard him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Derek asks, not wanting to push Stiles into an answer but he needed to make sure.

“Yeah.” Stiles replies, letting out a low breath as he pushes himself away from the counter.

“Okay.”

Stiles heard Derek walk away from the door before he lets out another breath.

He knew that Derek was worried, after a breakdown like the one he had last night, Stiles isn’t surprised that he came to check on him as soon as he woke up but how could he walk out of the bathroom and face him? What was he even going to say? ' _Oh, I’m sorry for being such a burden and for crying all over you but you really don’t need to be here anymore, I’m fine_ '… no, that just wasn’t going to sit right with either of them.

Derek deserved better, and as much as Stiles wanted to tell him how much he appreciated him, he just wasn’t able to form the words. Stiles’ head was just not in the right frame of mind, and the words that he wanted to say felt heavy on his tongue as he opened his mouth to call out to Derek.

So, instead, Stiles just got into the shower and let the water cascade over him in lukewarm waves.

* * * * * *

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Noah asks, watching as Stiles picks up his backpack.

Noah had been awake for most of the night, listening out for any sound that signaled that Stiles needed him. As it passed three o’clock, he thought that maybe was actually okay, that he was so exhausted that he would get a good night’s rest, but then his screams came and he jumped out of bed, rushing to his son’s bedroom in a blind panic before freezing in the doorway; Derek was already there, his arms wrapped tight around Stiles as he thrashed wildly in the bed. Noah was familiar with this scene, as he had often been the one to comfort Stiles through whatever nightmare he was experiencing, but standing in the doorway watching someone else take care of his son, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

When Derek’s eyes met Noah, and he gave him a stiff nod, Noah realized that he was no longer needed. He nodded back and turned on his heels out of the bedroom door, closing it behind him but still hovering in case he was called, but no call came and within moments, he could no longer hear his son screaming. It should have been a relief knowing that Stiles had someone who cared about him other than his Dad but honestly, after everything that they’ve been through in the past few years, Noah wasn’t ready to let someone else take over the role as Stiles’ protector.

Derek seemed like a good enough kid when he was growing up, sure he ran into the Sheriff more times than he would have liked, but Noah understood that Derek was just going through a rough patch, that he needed someone to guide him through the trauma that he had gone through. In a way, Derek was probably better equipped at helping Stiles than Noah was, and after much deliberation, Noah decided to stay awake and check in on them every couple of hours or so until the sun began to stream through the upstairs windows.

He was only his fourth cup of coffee when he heard movement above him, and running water a second later.

He had thought it was Derek moving around so he wasn’t prepared to see Stiles come into the kitchen, fully dressed.

“Um… school?” Stiles replies, his voice unsure. “You know, that place you say is so important for my future?”

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Noah presses, bring his coffee mug up to his lips as he watches Stiles over the rim. “After last night… no one would blame you if you wanted to stay home for a few days; it’s not as if your grades are going to suffer, you’re already top of your class.”

“But I won’t be if I start missing classes. I know that what happened last night was unbearable but… I can’t just…” Stiles trails off, closing his eyes as he grips onto the bottom of his hoody, trying to still the trembling in his hands to no avail as he adds, “I can’t hide away from everyone.”

Noah takes a moment to assess his son and he doesn’t miss the way that Stiles’ hands tremble as he reaches for the zip of his hoodie, or the way that his weight shifts from one foot to the other as he glances restlessly around the kitchen. He knew that Stiles’ anxiety was starting to spike, just like he knew that Stiles wasn’t thinking straight when it came down to wanting to go to school the day after losing two of his friends.

“Stiles, it’s not hiding… you’ve been through a tragedy and you’re mourning for your friends.” Noah said softly.

Stiles didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his trembling hands as he took in a couple of breaths.

“Take a couple of days off, son. I’ll contact the school to let them know that you’re not going to be in, and I’ll check up on Scott and the others to make sure that they’re not at school either. None of you should be there so soon and if you end up missing a few classes… well, it’s not the end of the world. You’re a smart kid, Stiles, and like I told you last night, I am so proud of you.” Noah says, standing from his seat at the small kitchen table and walking over to Stiles, placing his hands on his shoulders and giving him a little shake until Stiles looked at him.

It took him a minute, but Stiles eventually looked at his Dad and let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“I’m sorry…” Stiles starts before stepping out of his Dad’s reach. “I’ve got to go.”

“Stiles…” Noah calls after him but Stiles cuts him off.

“Tell Derek I said thank you and… I’m sorry.”

Before Noah had a chance to stop him, Stiles was running out the kitchen and through the front door, car keys in hand.

The sound of the Jeep’s engine came to life a minute later.

Noah didn’t know what to do, he was debating going after his son to try and reason with him but a stronger part of him thought that it would be best to just let Stiles go through the motions until he realized that he needed to take some time for himself and properly allow himself to grieve but then there was Derek, who came down the stairs not even five minutes later, looking confused and concerned by the lack of Stiles’ presence.

All it took was one look at Noah for the pieces to fall into place and he nodded before turning on his heels, following Stiles’ lead.

Noah could only hope as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, that he wasn’t making a big mistake by letting Stiles go.


	4. Chapter 4

As Stiles swings the Jeep into a parking spot, he looks down at his shaking hands.

Maybe his Dad was right, maybe going to school today wasn’t such a good idea.

It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since Allison and Aiden… Stiles takes in a deep breath, it has been a full twenty-four hours since the tragedy that occurred at the school and yet, here he was, making the familiar trip to this Godforsaken building, parking his Jeep in more or less the usual spot and he’s about to get out and walk through those double doors like nothing has even happened, like he was just a _normal_ teenager who had nothing else to worry about but exams, and not a teenager who had just killed his best friend’s girlfriend and a member of Derek’s Pack.

 _Stop thinking that you killed them_ , the voice of his Dad says sharply in his mind. _That was not your fault, now say it._

“That was not my fault,” Stiles whispers under his breath as he takes the key out of the ignition.

Stiles wishes that he could believe the words, he really does, but he just can’t stop thinking about what happened.

It takes Stiles a minute to regulate his breathing enough for him to pick up his backpack, open the door and jump out of his Jeep. He keeps the mantra in his head going of ‘ _That was not my fault_ ’ as he follows a group of students as they head towards the front entrance. As he walks behind them, he tries not to listen to their conversation, the excited whispers as they gossip about the latest news they heard on the radio this morning and Stiles’ stomach sinks as he can only imagine what would have gotten them so excited; _two students found dead at Beacon Hills High_.

A year or so ago, that would have no doubt have been him getting excited about the news, it’s not the fact that two students had been found dead, it was more the overall fact that something had actually happened in this boring town that’s worth talking about. He remembers the night in which Scott had been bitten, how he had listened into his Dad’s phone call and rushed over to tell Scott the news that a body had been found in the woods. As they later found out, the body was actually of Derek’s older sister, Laura, who had been killed by their own uncle, Peter.

Since then, news of bodies being found didn’t seem all that exciting, now instead of feeling excitement he just felt sick.

It’s a feeling that’s quickly becoming more familiar to him, the more he watched his Dad work case after case.

Stiles always knew what he wanted to be when he was old enough to pick a career, there was no doubt in his mind; he wanted to be a cop like his Dad, but he wanted to be able to do more and set his sights to work for the FBI. When he told his Dad that’s what he wanted to do, he could see the pride shining clearly in his eyes as he placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close for an embrace. He wanted to make his Dad proud but more importantly, he wanted to help give a voice to those who could no longer speak for themselves. He wanted to give them justice.

Now, as he stands just outside the school entrance, he starts to doubt whether that’s a career path he would even be cut out for.

It goes without saying that he has a sharp mind, he pretty much aces every test he takes, much to his Dad’s surprise given the latest Parent / Teacher conference and not to mention all the crap that’s been going on that the Pack have been dealing with, so he doesn’t need to worry about failing any of the entrance exams that come before joining the FBI Academy in Virginia. He’s also got sheer determination which comes in handy when he’s researching new information that would help his friends figure out what they’re going up against. Stiles is no stranger to research and he’s no stranger to Police files either; he can’t even recall how many cases he’s help his Dad with when he’s found him sitting at the kitchen table, papers strewn about everywhere as he stares tiredly at them, coffee mug sitting forgotten among them as he tries to piece together the puzzle.

Stiles has all the key aspects needed to become a terrific Agent, but right now, all that he’s missing is the confidence and the feeling of uneasiness washes over him as he thinks about all the bodies that he would most likely be investigating when he’s out in the field. He can’t think of that right now, besides, he’s still got a year or so left of school then he’s headed for College and then straight to the Academy, he doesn’t need to be worrying about being able to do the job until he’s actually reached the Academy, that’s the end goal, he’ll worry when he gets there.

It was with this thought that he took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, counted to ten and walked through the double doors.

If Stiles thought the drive to school was bad, the walk through the corridors was much worse.

As soon as he entered and the doors closed behind him, he felt as though everyone was watching him.

Every single person, students and teachers, that were currently gathered in the corridor turned to look at him as he entered the building.

The looks on their faces were a painstaking mixture of sadness, pity and one a few, confusion – Stiles put that down to them only having heard his name that morning, despite sharing classes with him for the past three or so years. As he takes a step forward, Stiles tries not to look in anyone’s eyes, he was anxious enough as it is without having to decode the meaning behind their gaze, but it wasn’t the looks that were bothering him, he could ignore them quite easily, it was the whispers he couldn’t shut out and as he walked, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of gossip.

“ _I can’t believe he came into school today_ …”

“ _Isn’t that the Sheriff’s kid? Wasn’t he friends with Allison?_ ”

“ _Do you think he knows about Allison and Aiden?_ ”

“ _Obviously; I heard he was actually here last night when they died._ ”

“ _Yeah? They didn’t just die, I heard that they were murdered…_ ”

It was the last comment which made Stiles rush the rest of the way down the corridor and into the nearest bathroom. As he shuts the door behind him and races into the nearest available cubicle, he raises a trembling hand out to grasp the wall for support. The word ‘ _murdered_ ’ kept repeating itself in Stiles’ mind, and each time it was spoken by the voice in his head, he felt like he was being cut into by a thousand Kitsune tail knives as he sucked in a shaky breath. It was all he could do to make sure that he didn’t throw up the little food he had in his stomach from last night.

They think he’s a murderer… students who he has never even had a conversation with think that he killed Allison and Aiden. They might not have said his name out loud, but their hushed whispers and the exchange of glances told him all that he needed to know.

“That was not my fault,” Stiles repeated in a whisper, repeating the words over and over again until he had calmed his breathing.

Stiles was surprised at how quickly the news had spread about Allison and Aiden but then again, in a school and town this small, everybody seemed to know everything about each other, and if one person heard something then they would tell their friend and on and on it would go until it came back full circle to the initial person who started the conversation in the first place. One some days, the size of the town and school comes in handy, but on days like today, Stiles can admit that it was one of the worst parts about living in Beacon Hills.

It takes him a few minutes to gather himself back together, and he waits until the bell had signaled the start of classes before he’s ready to step back out into the corridor, glad to see that apart from a few stragglers who turned to look at him as the bathroom door opened, it was practically empty. He let out a small sigh of relief at this and headed towards his first class, his mind trying to focus on anything apart from the dizziness that was starting to take over; he had to focus, he couldn’t let people know that he was struggling, he had to get through today… he just _had_ to.

* * * * * *

For the most part, Stiles was surprised at how well he was coping; he had made it to lunchtime, which was a victory in itself.

At the start of each of his morning classes, the teachers had briefly mentioned that yes, there was an incident involving two students last night but no they wouldn’t be discussing it without confirmation from the local Sheriff’s Department. Upon hearing this, Stiles thanked his lucky stars that his Dad was the Sheriff because if previous experience was anything to go by, his Dad tended to keep everything tight-lipped until he absolutely had no choice but to divulge information to the press, in order to keep the residents of Beacon Hills safe; alert and cautious, but safe.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a few of his classmates turn to look at him, as if asking for him to spill the beans on what had happened, which he probably would have done back before this mess started, but instead he just closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

After that, everything seemed to carry on like normal, the teachers continued with their lesson plans, the students even though there was still the occasional excited whisper between them turned to their friends or started to pass notes when the teacher wasn’t looking and that was the students who were actually still awake. Looking round at them all, it felt as if nothing had happened. Stiles thought he should be bothered by that feeling, considering that it was Allison and Aiden who had lost their lives. It felt wrong that the world was just moving on but what else could they do? Stiles knew that this, losing friends, was just a part of life and as much as he hated it, there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

As the end of lunch drew near, Stiles noted that he hadn’t seen any of the Pack wandering the halls.

 _Maybe they had the right idea to stay home_ , Stiles tells himself as he grabs the strap of his backpack.

Stiles knew that if he had taken his Dad’s advice and had stayed home, if he had stayed shut up in his room, moping… _grieving_ … then he would find himself slowly descending into a madness he wouldn’t be able to climb out from. He had never been able to stay still for very long, even when he was younger, he needed to keep his mind and hands busy. Doctors had said it was linked with his ADD but Stiles knew that if stayed in one place then he would get too lost in his own thoughts, and at the moment, his thoughts are the last place he wants to get lost in. The voices in his head are bad enough without him spending alone time, doing nothing. Scott and the others might be able to stay away from the school, it’s not as if they’re grades were going to drop any lower, but Stiles couldn’t do that, he needed to learn, he needed to fill his mind with new information in order to keep himself distracted and to keep his grades up.

Which brings him back to the present.

Discarding the untouched tray of food, Stiles makes his way towards the Science block.

After this class, he only had to deal with Coach Finstock for an hour and then he was done.

He could do this.

With that thought in mind, Stiles sucked in a breath and stepped into the classroom, thankful that he was able to get a table right at the back of the class by the door and unceremoniously dumped his backpack on top. His hands were starting to shake again as he started to pull out the books he would need and he had to remind himself that it was just one more class. He tried not to think about the fact that it was the class in which Lydia’s Mom had taken over, and how she would no doubt have been told what happened when she was called to pick Lydia up from the hospital.

Stiles knew that Lydia, Scott, Chris and Isaac had been at the hospital when he was discharged, but he never saw them there.

He thinks back to last night and how he wanted to see Scott and tell him that he was sorry, he remembers how disorientated he had gotten when he reached the reception desk and how Melissa’s arms wrapped around him to make sure that he stayed on both feet. He knew that both Melissa and his Dad were right to stop him from going further, but he needed to apologize and he also needed Chris to know how sorry he was too. He had never meant for any of this to happen, and he especially didn’t mean for Allison and Aiden to lose their lives.

Lydia would no doubt be beside herself with grief; Allison was her best friend and Aiden was her boyfriend.

Stiles’ head started spinning as he thought of Lydia and he quickly pulled his seat out to sit down.

“Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good,” a voice calls out and Stiles looks up to find Danny watching him.

Stiles tries to think of an answer that would satisfy the boy in front of him but he just couldn’t focus so instead of using his words, he just gave him one sharp nod before putting his backpack down on the floor by his feet. Why was Danny asking him if he was okay? Surely, he should be asking Ethan… unless Danny hasn’t spoken to him today. If that was the case then he would have still have known about Aiden, what with the amount of whispers going round the school and the story being run on the news, he would have known that Ethan had just lost his brother.

So, why wasn’t he comforting him instead?

Stiles didn’t have time to ponder that particular question as Mrs Martin entered at that moment and called for everyone’s attention. From under his lashes, Stiles could see Danny giving him one more look before he sighed and turned back around in his seat to face the front. Stiles let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had even been holding and looked up as well, bracing himself for what was to come.

He didn’t have to wait long as the second the class went quiet; Mrs Martin spoke the words he’s already heard too many times today.

“As you are no doubt already aware, there was a situation here last night that caused the lives of two students to be lost, but let me assure you, as sad as the news is, it’s not going to prevent you from completing today’s Pop Quiz. If, after the lesson, you feel as though this news has affected you in some way, the Principal has asked all teachers to inform you that the Guidance Councellor, Miss Morrell, is available if you need someone to talk to during this… _upsetting_ time.” Mrs Martin explains, her voice gentle but authoritative as she goes up and down each row of desks.

Stiles feels sick to his stomach at her words and the suggestion of going to see Miss Morrell, he was actually surprised to hear that she was back at Beacon Hills High. The last time he saw her was when she was working at Eichen House after he admitted himself when the Nogitsune first took control; it was definitely a part of his life that he wishes to forget and he doesn’t think that he would be able to face her so soon.

As Mrs Martin passes by his desk, Stiles could feel his breathing becoming shallow and heart racing; he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t be here anymore. Without asking to be excused, Stiles pushes back from the desk, his shaking hands fumbling for the strap of his backpack and stumbles back out of the room, his vision blurring around the edges, his chest tightening as he goes. He ignores Mrs Martin’s calls for him to come back and he only makes it a few steps before he collides with a solid body. With his vision continuing to blur, Stiles didn’t even have to look to see who he had just ran into; he could recognize that scent and leather jacket anywhere.

“Derek,” he chokes out, allowing himself to grab hold of his sleeve as he gasps for air.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Derek murmurs as he leads Stiles out to the parking lot.


End file.
